Nagai Yume
by Kokkei and Zenshou
Summary: An AU fic exploring the fundamental question, "What if Hotohori had gone along on the trip to Hokkan?" Read and review and we'll love you forever. ^_^.
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER: Neither Kokkei nor I own Fushigi Yuugi, alas... *Kokkei bursts into hysterical sobs* *Zenshou hands her a tissue*  
  
*ZONK*  
  
*AUTHORS' NOTE: This is an AU fic, centered around the eternal question, "What if Hotohori had come along to Hokkan?" More to come shortly...or...as soon as Kokkei can stop giggling long enough to type. -.-  
  
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"Nagai Yume"  
by Kokkei and Zenshou  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The sun had just set, leaving behind a soft palette of gold, pink, and violet. A harsh streak of crimson rippled through the soothing background, glared like a splash of blood against the vibrant canvas of the sky.  
  
Gazing up into the fading daylight was a lone figure, a soft night wind brushing the silken strands of chestnut hair back from his broad shoulders, his fingers wrapped lightly around the wooden railing of the palace walkway. His handsome features were twisted up into a pensive expression, the soft, liquid amber of his eyes narrowed in thought.   
  
After a few moments, he was vaguely aware of a familiar presence just beside him. "Chichiri," he said softly, not bothering to turn. "Are the travel preparations underway?"  
  
He sensed the other nod. "Hai." There was a brief rustle of movement beside him as Chichiri removed his mask, leaned forward so his elbows rested against the railing. "You haven't been sleeping well lately, Hotohori-sama." It was not a question.  
  
Hotohori closed his eyes briefly, nodded. "I have...had a lot on my mind."  
  
Chichiri said nothing, waiting expectantly for the young emperor to continue.  
  
After a long moment of silence, Hotohori sighed, dropped his head. "I have been having nightmares," he confided in a low voice. He glanced briefly at the other, at the single crimson eye gazing thoughtfully back at him. "They're like nothing I've ever experienced before." He turned back to growing darkness of the horizon. "It begins with blackness, always. Then..." He shook his head, closed his eyes. "Fragments. And Miaka...screaming." His eyes opened, slowly, flickered downwards towards the shadowed expanse of the royal gardens. His face was pale and haunted. "I don't know what it could mean...except, it feels as if...if I don't accompany you all to Hokkan..." He closed his eyes, trailed off. When he spoke again, his voice was a low, harsh whisper. "Something...terrible will happen."  
  
Chichiri was silent for a long moment. "I've always been a believer in prophetic dreams no da," he said at last, matching the young emperor's soft, low tone. "But...not all dreams are prophetic. If this one is no da...it will come again."  
  
Hotohori sighed, turned back to the cool midnight blue of the sky. "Perhaps you're right."  
  
"Until then," Chichiri continued, carefully returning the mask to its place over his scarred features, "it would be a good idea to get some rest no da. If the dream is prophetic...you'll know no da."  
  
Hotohori spent a moment in silence, digesting the words. Finally, he nodded, glanced back at his companion with a slight, gentle smile. "Arrigato, Chichiri."  
  
Chichiri bowed briefly, straightened, and turned. His footsteps echoed against the soft wooden boards of the palace walkway, faded, then vanished entirely, and Hotohori was once again alone.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
[More to come. Please review! We live on this stuff! ^_^.] 


	2. Nagai Yume - 2

*AUTHORS' NOTE: Arrigato, minna, for all the reviews...as promised, we will now love you all forever. *firm nod* So...er...be nice to us. We lovvvvve you.   
  
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"Nagai Yume" - continued from Part I  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
He woke up in a cold sweat, the breath rasping in and out of his lungs, the blankets tangled into knots about his legs. Gasping and trembling, Hotohori sat up straight in the bed, planted his feet on the cold, smooth floorboards, and let his head drop into his hands.   
  
"Masaka," he whispered. "Again...gods..." He inhaled a sharp breath, the implications of the recurring nightmare slicing into him. Panting, the young emperor rose shakily to his feet, stood for a long moment beside the bed, one hand gripping tightly onto the nearby bedpost to steady himself. The dream came back to him in violent flashes, nearly driving him to his knees on the hardwood floor. Fighting against the initial weakness in his muscles, Hotohori sank weakly back onto the bed, brought a hand to his forehead as the images circled in his head.  
  
Miaka...Miaka screaming...and darkness...a thick, velvety darkness, and cold...it was so cold...he felt moisture on his face, a splash of water on his cheeks, and slowly, gradually, he felt the dream come into focus, the images form before his eyes...  
  
Tamahome...Miaka...splashing, churning water...and someone else...a flash of violet hair...Nuriko? The image faded, then, left him drifting in the strange, cool darkness...there was a flash of light in the darkness, searing into his vision, leaving him blind and in pain for a long moment, stumbling, wincing, confused...and then, abruptly, something dove for him, soared overheard...fur...claws...  
  
Blood.  
  
A sick feeling churning in the pit of his stomach, Hotohori moved swiftly to a nearby chair, grabbed up the silken robe he'd left there the night before. Draping it quickly over his broad shoulders, the young emperor hurried for the door, scarcely noticing the fact that his feet were bare and he hadn't bothered to tie up the sash at his waist. His feet slapped lightly against the wooden boards of the palace walkway, echoed dully in the thick silence of the night...but he barely noticed the sound, saw only the darkened images spinning in his mind, and the far-off light of his destination.   
  
By the time he reached Chichiri's door, his long, thick chestnut hair had fled its confines, hung in loose, silken waves about his face and shoulders. Breathing heavily from the exertion, Hotohori swept a long strand of hair back from his eyes, raised a hand to knock on the young monk's door...and paused.   
  
What was he doing?? It was the middle of the night...surely Chichiri wasn't even up... Sighing lightly, Hotohori lowered his hand back to its place at his side, took a small step back...and started as the door in front of him abruptly swung open.  
  
Chichiri nodded to him from within, not bothering to rise from where he sat on the floor. "Come in, Heika-sama."  
  
Hotohori returned the nod and entered. The door swung silently shut behind him.  
  
The young emperor took a moment to glance around the room. Now that he thought of it, this was the first time he'd ever entered these chambers since the young seishi had taken up residence in them--he was mildly surprised to discover that Chichiri had done very little to the room's original decor. The bed was neatly made up on the left side of the room, the sheets smooth and clean, not at all ruffled. Hotohori noted this with a slight frown--Chichiri hadn't gone to sleep at all tonight?   
  
//Was he...waiting for me?\\  
  
Drawing his attentions from the bed, the young seishi took a moment to scan the remainder of the room, from the smooth, uncluttered oak of the bureau to the closed, clearly-unused wardrobe, to the small cloth-covered table near the bed...the only sign that anyone lived here at all, in fact, was the thin length of Chichiri's staff leaning against the far corner and the seishi himself, sitting crosslegged in the center of the carpet, a ring of flickering candles surrounding him.   
  
Chichiri regarded him silently for a moment, his one good eye narrowed slightly in silent inspection. The mask lay discarded on the floor beside him, looking odd and lifeless without the young monk's colorful expressions behind it. He nodded once, solemnly. "It happened again na no da."  
  
Hotohori inclined his head a fraction of an inch. "Hai," he murmured, his voice just barely above a whisper.   
  
The older seishi bowed his head, let his eye slide softly closed. "I suspected it would na no da." The eye opened, gazed at him with sudden intensity. "Will you go to Hokkan, Hotohori-sama?"  
  
Hotohori caught his breath. Would he?  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
AUTHORS' NOTE: *glares* Don't look at us like that. Of COURSE nothing else happens! THIS IS NOT SHOUNEN AI, DAMN IT!!! *cries* I KNOW you were thinking bad thoughts when Hotohori came into Chichiri's bed chambers...weren't you...WEREN'T YOU!?!!!! *ahem* Don't let it happen again. *firm nod* 


End file.
